


robbers // (zouis)

by smokeskids



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: M/M, zouis
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-27
Updated: 2016-07-27
Packaged: 2018-07-27 03:44:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,209
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7602058
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smokeskids/pseuds/smokeskids
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>some zouis drabble inspired by the 1975 song Robbers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	robbers // (zouis)

**Author's Note:**

> this is just some zouis drabble i've been thinking about that i'm not going to be finishing! x

45 seconds

Louis bursts through the metallic doors, his face contorted in determination, his hands envelope the shotgun in his pocket as he takes it out, and points it outwards, an old woman nearest to him yelps in shock.

“Everybody shut the fuck up and get on the floor now! Now!” he yells, his voice seething. The small number of people stop what they’re doing and reluctantly but fearfully lower themselves onto the ground. A young woman starts to gasp and weep as she raises her hands over her head. A dark man in his young 30’s instead tries to make a grab at Louis, and Louis hits him hard across the head with the shotgun, sending him falling to the ground. “I said get on the fucking” another hit, “floor!” A thick crimson liquid trickles from his forehead as he lays still, face down.

32 seconds

“Nobody fucking move!” he spits, aiming the gun frantically in every direction causing people to cry out. “Shut the fuck up,” he mutters as he strides towards the lady at the front desk, her arms raised high as he approaches. Louis pulls out a black bin bag and thrusts it in front of the alarmed woman. “Give me all of your fucking money,” he orders sternly as he bores into her eyes, the gun points straight at her forehead, his hand trembling just so. She gulps and opens the cash register, scooping the notes of 50’s and 100’s into the black bag. 

13 seconds

Louis glances at his watch. “Hurry!” he shouts exasperatedly. She fills the bag with the last of the cash and he whips it away, before darting off and heading for the exit.

7 seconds

The front desk woman trembles, watching him shout at the innocent bystanders to not so much as breathe. As he makes a grab for the door, he hears a timid voice. “…Who are you?”  
He whips around, and flashes a cat-like grin. “I’m Louis Tomlinson, bitch.” And with that he was out the door, leaving the room a hollow shell of shock, an electric buzz in the air.  
Louis makes a break for the old Renault Clio rumbling directly outside the bank, the passenger side already opened for him, and he slides in and closes the door, throwing his head back against the headrest. A breathy laugh escapes his lips as the car zooms away.

“Alright babe, what we got?” the driver, Zayn and also Louis’ partner in crime (literally) asked, his voice muffled slightly by the lit cigarette occupying his lips. Louis took the cigarette out of his mouth, pecked Zayn on his full lips, and had a toke from the cigarette before placing it back in Zayn’s.

Louis opened the black bag and started counting the money. By the time they left the city, Louis told Zayn they had just off $10,000, his blue eyes sparkling. And they just kept driving, until the sun went down. They stopped off at a gas station in this foreign dismal town they found themselves in. The wheels ground to a halt and Zayn hopped out to fill up the tank. They had lukewarm coffee from the machine and once again started their travels. They didn’t know exactly where they were going; they just know they want to go west. So they are. The road signs tell them they are heading towards Kansas. “Perfect. Just like Dorothy,” Louis drawls, as Zayn nudges him awake at the sight of the sign.  
“Dorothy is too innocent to be you. Nah, you’re the wicked witch of the south, Louis,” Zayn replies, squeezing Louis’ bony knee under his long denim shorts. Louis raises an eyebrow. “It’s witch of the west, I think mate,” he counters. Zayn just hums in response and returns his attention to the upcoming city in front of them. They’ve been rattling through dusty wastelands and this is the first promising town they’ve seen yet. 

The car slows to a stop outside a dirty looking motel on the outskirts of the town. “Just for tonight,” Zayn promises Louis, eyeing his grimace at the rundown building. They grab their bags, including the bag of money and their shot gun which has been stashed inside other multiple bags, and head inside. The small lobby reeks of damp, and Louis immediately went to cover his nose from the offending smell. Zayn bats his hand away and silently gives him a “don’t be fucking rude” look. There was a small desk and a gaunt man eyeing them wearily from behind it. With an intake of breath, Zayn walks up to the counter, with Louis tottering behind him like a lost puppy; his bags clubbing his bare shins with every tread. 

“Twin room for one night please mate,” Zayn said.  
He’s given a pen to sign his name into the check-in book. Louis watches over Zayn’s shoulder as he scribbles an unrecognisable name complete with swirls and an overdrawn line underneath. He receives the key and they make it up the hollow stairway to the room numbered 019.  
Zayn swings open the door to the dingy motel room, and the odour of stale cigarettes and old carpet floods their nostrils. The dim room is yellowed by the street lights outside, and there are two single beds, tightly made with thin beige sheets. In the corner is a set of drawers and a lamp on the bedside table in between the two beds. “I feel like royalty,” Louis deadpanned, and headed over to the leaky window to glance outside. The streets were deserted, so it’s kind of perfect for two getaway convicts to kip here and not bump into anyone who may have seen their faces on the news or something. Louis doubts anyone around here even has a television.  
In ten minutes time, Louis is lying on his single bed and listening to his slow breaths harmonizing with the street sounds coming from the open window Zayn is smoking out of. A small draft of wind brought Louis to hugging his knees to keep from the chill. Zayn exhaled the last of the smoke out and stubbed it out on the windowsill; slamming the window shut. 

“Alright, well, I’ll see you later mate,” Zayn said, and headed for the door.

“Whoa whoa whoa, where the fuck are you going?”

“…The offie. There’s got to be one around here I’ll only take a sec. You stay here,” 

Louis spluttered. “Why can’t you wait ‘til tomorrow? I’m scared, Zayn,” he sniffled into his knees, sending Zayn’s eyes rolling as he goes to sit back down.  
“Alright bloody ‘ell, Louis ‘m not going anywhere,” he brought Louis close and hugged around Louis’ shoulders.

“Can’t help it. We’ve only done petty stuff until today. This could really get us in shit Zayn,”

“Well it’s not ‘cos they’re not gonna find us, are they?” he whispered soothingly. “C’mon. Get your gear off and we’ll sleep together tonight,” They toed off their shoes and slithered up to the pillows, slowly removing their jeans, sending a chill up Zayn’s spine. He turned off the light and pulled the covers over the shivering boy and held him tight; staring into the darkness and felt himself starting to drift off.

**Author's Note:**

> i'm louis tomlinson, bitch
> 
>  
> 
> 2009cool.tumblr.com/
> 
> xo


End file.
